


Because you're beautiful and it hurts to say 'i love you'

by Gridaph



Series: Feel's like a river's rushing through my mind [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, M/M, Multi, i wrote this in 20 minutes please spare my soul, no beta we die like men, the day i beta my works is the day i die, the ending sucks ass im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gridaph/pseuds/Gridaph
Summary: Hues of lilac, peach and blue line the sky. Try as it might, but the horizon will never be as beautiful as Tango.
Relationships: impulseSV/Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Feel's like a river's rushing through my mind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808134
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Because you're beautiful and it hurts to say 'i love you'

**Author's Note:**

> of course my first tangpulse-centric fic posted is gonna be angst why am i not surprised

“So, this is it.” 

Impulse says it, because he truly doesn’t know what to say. What is he supposed to say? 

He looked at Tango, silently urging him to say something. Anything. But the blond seems to have resided into a state of muteness Impulse has grown too familiar with in the past month or so. There’s a tiredness behind those sharp red eyes. 

Red, beautiful. Impulse felt his insides churning when he looked at them. 

Tango doesn’t respond, and neither does Impulse. His feet dangle above the sand below the swings. They creaked in the dead of sunset. 

Hues of lilac, peach and blue line the sky. Try as it might, but the horizon will never be as beautiful as Tango.

They were the only ones in the playground that afternoon. It was summer, Impulse recalls. The sun was just setting. Tango would’ve loved to take a drive around the neighbourhood to take in the view. 

A screaming kid running past them would’ve been an excellent distraction. A mother yelling at them to get off the swings so her children could play on them. Or a couple holding hands laughing as a painful reminder of what they once were. 

Impulse gripped the metal chains by his side, nails digging into his palms. 

“I’m sorry.” Impulse choked out. Weak, choked up and hoarse. He always hated trying to talk when he was about to cry. Always hated crying. 

“Pulse-” 

Tango’s voice broke him. Like the mug Impulse dropped on the kitchen floor that morning (or Tango’s heart).  _ That stupid fucking nickname.  _

“I love you.” Impulse doesn’t know why he said it. “I really really love you.” 

“Yeah.” Tango inhaled. “Me too.” 

They stayed silent after that, because words are complicated. They held hands all the way to the station and it was only then, when Tango let go off his hand Impulse felt the pain creep up in his heart like a stab under the ribcage. 

The kind of pain he just can’t really push away. 

The kind of pain that leaves his palm cold and empty. 


End file.
